emails containing summer, summer as an attachment, as worldly, as something you can hold; containable, translatable, made of more than sun and angles and time but also those and golden grass and sedimentary memories of schools' ruptures, of heat skin and cold water, summer where we as plants reach up while summer scatters rainbows like dragonflies and like the river-bathed skin they land to sip, summer as this skipping touch, the nights whose insect calls surround the stars and days that feel unbounded, fence-hopping, pausing but for breath if that, summer phrases to track this bounce of time as it nears the horizon for one last party.